Music
by LaurelNymph
Summary: Germany discovers something he and Italy have in common, and in the process, learns something completely new about the odd nation so close to him. Gertalia. Human names used. Crap title is craaap.


**A/N I do not own Hetalia. Please enjoy.**

* * *

Ludwig was filling out paperwork as usual, but today, in an attempt to make the work more enjoyable, he had turned on some German music. It was certainly helping, the fast-paced somewhat violent beat of the_ tanz-metal_ encouraging him to work at the same pace. His foot under the desk was even tapping along unconsciously. He was getting his work done in record time when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

Feliciano was cowering outside his office. His whole body had been hidden behind the doorway except for that infamous curl (whose function Ludwig was still ignorant of) which was trembling in fear. Ludwig sighed. Of course something would eventually stop his efficiency train, and the fact that it was Feliciano was also not surprising in the least. He reached over and switched off the music player, cutting off Till Lindemann's rough voice.

"What is it, Italia?" he asked in exasperation. With the music gone, Feliciano had immediately brightened and bounced into the room, plopping himself on Ludwig's desk and his semi-completed paperwork. Or rather, the paperwork that would be left unfinished, as paperwork usually turned out when Feliciano interrupted him during work.

"Ve~ Doitsu, your music is scary," Feliciano said, ignoring the first question. It was quite likely that he had forgotten that a question had even been asked of him in the first place.

"I don't usually listen to music," Ludwig admitted. "But sometimes it is nice to hear what your people have come up with in the arts."

Feliciano's smiled widened.

"Ve~ I know what you mean, Doitsu! I love listening to Zero Assoluto and Puccini!"

Ludwig had never heard of the first singer, so he assumed it was some pop singer or boy band. However, the second name was what sent Ludwig reeling back in shock.

"Italia, you like opera?" he asked in pure surprise. The idea of flighty Feliciano sitting quietly and enjoying such a refined art as opera was a startling image, but a pleasant one.

"Mmm-hmm! Ve~ I must have seen _La Boh__è__me_ at least a hundred times! It's my favorite, but I also love _Tosca_ and _Madama Butterfly_!" The small Italian continued to talk about all of the Italian operas and singers he liked. However, by then, Ludwig had tuned him out, thinking about how many surprises Feliciano was full of.

* * *

A few days later, while eating dinner, (Feliciano had, of course, made pasta) Ludwig pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and gave it Feliciano.

"Ve~ Doitsu? What's this?"

"Open it," Ludwig answered tersely. Feliciano obeyed (for once) and opened the letter, finding two pieces of paper inside that looked like tickets.

"'_Die Zauberflöte_'," he read slowly from the top of the ticket. "Ve~ Is this a ticket to another one of Doitsu's weird movies? Does it have dogs?"

After spending so much time with the Italian, Ludwig had learned to avoid face-palming every time Feliciano said something stupid. He would have given himself brain damage by now if he hadn't. However, he couldn't resist now.

"_Die Zauberflöte_ is an opera," he clarified. "An opera," he repeated again for good measure. "By Mozart. It's German." At this point, he looked down at his barely-touched plate, a tinge of red in his cheeks. "I thought we could go see it together."

Ludwig instantly wished he had a pair of earplugs to block out the high-pitched squeal that emerged from Feliciano's lips.

"Vee~!" he squealed happily. "I'd love to go to the opera with Doitsu! I love hanging out with Doitsu! But will opera sound all right in German?" he suddenly questioned. "'Cause I heard one of England's operas about pirates and it didn't sound very good at all. Italian sounds good with opera, but not English. So will German sound okay–"

"I've see _Die Zauberflöte_ many times before," Ludwig cut in. "It sounds fine. It's a very beautiful opera."

"Okay, Doitsu! I trust you." Feliciano smiled so honestly at Ludwig he couldn't beat back the blush that rose in his cheeks and the frantic pounding of his heart as it sped up its pumping. Now that he thought about it, that was happening a lot lately. Maybe he had a fever. And a heart murmur. Maybe he should really see a doctor. On second thought, as he saw Feliciano tuck the tickets away into his shirt pocket, smiling in joy that he was "going to see an opera with Doitsu", that could wait until he had taken his friend out to the opera.

* * *

Ludwig was not a dreamer. He knew what was feasible and what was not. After enough time with Feliciano, he had come to expect very little from the man. That was not to say he didn't enjoy his company. On the contrary, he enjoyed having the little Italian around way too much for his liking. But Ludwig knew Feliciano too well, and so he never expected too much from the young man knowing he would only unnecessarily frustrate himself if he expected too much. Which was exactly why he had anticipated Feliciano being his normal self when they went to go see _Die Zauberflöte_.

However, the Italian man surprised him. When Feliciano came out of his room (he was actually using the guest room that Ludwig had given him?) Ludwig was surprised to see him wearing an immaculate well-tailored Armani suit which accentuated his slim physique. Not only was he extremely well-dressed, but his hair was combed and gelled, altering his appearance so much that he barely even looked like the Feliciano Ludwig knew and was so often frustrated with. The only vestige of the normal Feliciano was the hair which, no matter how much gel was applied, always curled out.

Ludwig found himself feeling both shabby in his plain suit and regular hair and completely swept away by Feliciano's appearance.

"Italia, you look great." Was that his voice? Had he just said something? He felt very hot all of a sudden. His eyes were feeling rather dry, too. Ludwig suddenly remembered how to blink and the dryness went away. He also remembered how to shut his jaw and wipe the dampness from the corner of his mouth. Feliciano started his descent down the stairs and Ludwig sincerely hoped that he had suppressed his flush and that Feliciano hadn't seen him drooling. After an eternity of the Italian sauntering (sauntering!) down the stairs Feliciano made it to the bottom and latched onto Ludwig's arm.

"Ve~ Doitsu! It's time for opera!" At least his behavior hadn't changed. Ludwig wasn't sure he'd be able to control himself if Feliciano started acting unlike himself. Feliciano stayed latched on to Ludwig's arm on the way to the car, letting go only so that Ludwig could drive. Once they were out of the car and heading towards the theatre, he latched on again. Ludwig felt that familiar blush rising in his face again, feeling horribly self-conscious. It wasn't without reason, though. People were looking at them, some with discomfort, disgust, and the occasional lascivious grin that reminded him eerily of Hungary. He was only too glad to get to his personal box (being a personified nation definitely had its perks) where no one could see him utterly failing to ignore the young, sexy Italian hanging off his arm.

"Ve~ Doitsu, I'm so glad we're here at the opera!" Feliciano gushed, dragging his armchair closer to Ludwig's, cause the latter to suffer an increase in breathing and heart rate. Yup, he definitely should go to the doctor as soon as the opera was over. There was obviously something terribly medically wrong with him. He attempted to chat normally with Feliciano, who was absorbed with the program and making himself familiar with the story.

Eventually, the house lights dimmed and the curtain rose. Ludwig had expected Feliciano to annoy him during the performance, asking what was going on and why pasta wasn't allowed in the theatre, but to his surprise, the Italian was watching the performance intently. Ludwig himself was barely even aware of the action of the opening scene he was watching Feliciano so intently. It wasn't until Papageno had had a padlock placed upon his mouth that he realized he was staring at his friend. He quickly tore his eyes away and concentrated on the love story between Pamina and Tamino, stealing only occasional glances of Feliciano, whose brow was furrowed in concentration. Ludwig felt a swell of pride that one of his countrymen had created something so powerful as to make Feliciano, the most easily-distracted nation, and possibly person, on the planet, concentrate.

Intermission came around and the house lights came back on. Ludwig opened his mouth to ask if Feliciano was able to follow the story but the Italian spoke first.

"Ve~ I wonder how Tamino will get through all the ordeals Sarastro sets before him to be with Pamina! And I sure hope Papageno finally finds a wife!"

"You like it?" Ludwig asked in a daze, shocked by the amount of the story that Feliciano had gotten.

"Yes!" Feliciano declared, swinging his feet back and forth. "I like it a whole lot! I thought all German music was scary, but this is really nice!" He nodded enthusiastically. "It's almost as good as Italian opera!" Feliciano beamed and Ludwig felt against those strange symptoms that probably added up to some terminal disease. He stood up abruptly.

"I'm going to get a drink. Do you want anything?"

"Wine!" Feliciano supplied happily. Ludwig went off to the bar and stood in line for most of intermission, just barely making it back to the box with his beer and Feliciano's glass of wine before the curtain rose for the second act. Feliciano was just as well-behaved the second act through and after the show had ended and they had applauded the actors, they returned to the car. Ludwig had barely shut the door when he felt Feliciano raise the armrest of his seat and cling to his arm.

"Uh, Italia, I need my arm to drive," he stuttered as the Italian nation started rubbing his face along Ludwig's biceps. Feliciano merely hummed and scooted closer. Feeling frightened and vaguely turned on, Ludwig threw the car into drive and set off. Driving with only one arm turned out to be easier than he thought and they neither crashed nor received a traffic ticket.

Getting out of the car when he had parked back in his garage, however, turned out to be quite difficult with Feliciano hanging off his arm and refusing to let go. Somehow, the Italian managed to slither out after Ludwig without letting him go once. Ludwig shuffled over to the door, dragging Feliciano along. He had unlocked the door and made it halfway up the stairs before he simply had to ask.

"Italia, what's wrong with you? Why are you clinging to me?" He cringed when he realized that his voice had progressively gone up in pitch.

"Doitsu~!" Feliciano murmured, rubbing his hands up and down Ludwig's arm. "I've been good for three hours. _I can't be good any longer._"

"Italia, what do you mean?"

Ludwig found out exactly what he meant when Feliciano let go (at first he had been naïve enough to think that was the end) but then the Italian launched himself at Ludwig, who was forced to catch him or let him go flying down the stairs.

"Italia!"

Clinging to Ludwig, Feliciano still managed to shrug off his jacket and let it fall to the floor.

"You'll wrinkle your suit!" Ludwig cried out in a moment of pure German-ness. Ludwig was only worried about the expensive suit jacket for another half a second before he was distracted by something else.

That something else being Feliciano's mouth pressed against his own. Ludwig's eyes bulged as Feliciano ravaged his mouth with his tongue, too shocked to do anything. There was a faint aftertaste of beer in his mouth mixing with the leftover taste of wine and something else, something stronger, in Feliciano's. Wait.

Ludwig, with a great deal of difficulty, pulled his mouth away from Feliciano's. It was then that he noticed how glazed over Feliciano's eyes were and how he was rather unsteady, even clinging to Ludwig's side.

"You're drunk!" he exclaimed in shock. He had no idea how that had happened, since he had only given the nation one glass of wine. Had the bartender spiked it? Now that he thought about it, the bartender had seemed rather familiar... And he _had_ poured his drinks chanting "kolkolkol". If someone had slipped Italy vodka, it sure would explain a lot.

"I'm not drunk!" the Italian claimed, slurring his words. Ludwig sighed in relief. Or was it crushing disappointment?

"I'm getting you to bed," he declared firmly.

"I thought you'd never say it!" Feliciano cried out loudly, throwing his arms around Ludwig's neck and attacking his mouth again. This time, it was much easier to push him off. Easier physically, that is. Mentally, it was much more difficult to shove Feliciano away. But Ludwig did it anyway.

"I meant to sleep it off!" Ludwig snapped, carting the Italian up to his bedroom.

"Waah! You never want to have any fun, Doitsu!" wailed Feliciano. Yet by the time Ludwig had gotten Feliciano up to his bed (only because that's where he always slept and he didn't want Feliciano to panic when he woke up in the morning in a strange bed) the Italian was already asleep. That made it much easier to strip Feliciano down to his underwear (only so that he wouldn't ruin his nice suit in case the Italian got sick in the middle of the night) and get him into the bed.

Ludwig, still trying to determine just how he felt about the whole situation, changed into his pajamas and joined Feliciano in the bed, who was drooling away on Ludwig's pillow. Even passed out drunk from vodka-spiked wine, Feliciano rolled over to cuddle up to Ludwig and muttered "Good night, Ludwig."

Ludwig nearly came apart at his name murmured so tenderly by Feliciano.

"Good night, Feliciano," he whispered back. He could wait for the morning to tell a sober Feliciano just how much he had realized he cared about him that night.

* * *

***tanz-metal: German for dance metal – The genre of music which Rammstein classifies themselves as**

***Till Lindemann – Lead vocalist of Rammstein**


End file.
